Turning my head, I put my hands on my hips and glare at him over my shoulder.
“Ah… Too soon?” The snarky smile I’ve grown accustomed to turns into a kiss on my cheek, and he steps back.
“Pervert.” I force the hoarse whisper out, and James nods. No matter how crazy things have been, he’s been supportive and caring through it all. I’ll be happy to have some answers about my voice today. I sit on the exam table, and James stands against the wall in the corner, casually observing.
“Hello, hello. I’m Doctor Lewis. I understand you experienced some smoke inhalation early last week in a fire and…” He looks down at my chart. “You work on the radio, correct?” He’s a jovial sort of doctor, which could grate on your nerves, but since I’m trying to remain hopeful about my voice, I nod and wait for him to continue.
James shakes his hand and continues his overprotective vigil in the corner of the room.
“All right, so let’s start by testing the quality of your voice and take a look at the music makers. I’m going to record this so I can analyze it later, if needed—is that all right?”
Shaking uncontrollably, I freeze in the moment feeling the panic rush me like a mob threatening to drown me. For a second, my vision gets dark with those bright dots of dizziness. The last thing I want is anything recorded, considering what happened the last time that occurred.
“It’ll be all right, Casey,” James attempts to reassure me, and I shrug because, really, I’m at his mercy.
“We can take a few moments.” The doctor is sympathetic and stands to leave the room seeing my panicked reaction.
Shaking my head no, I manage to convince them both to continue with the exam.
The doctor has me repeat a bunch of sounds and hold them for brief periods of time. I sound pitiful, pathetic really, and I hope James doesn’t make any obscene gestures behind the doctor to make me laugh.
“Hmm.” His thoughtful noises don’t worry me, but then he pulls out a tube with a light on the end of it.
I make a gesture, reeling back, and the doctor chuckles.
“You’d be surprised the reactions I get with this thing. It’s actually going up your nose so I can view your vocal cords. It has a light and a camera attached to it.” Anything going up my nose doesn’t make me feel the slightest bit better. I pretty sure that hole is a no zone for me.
“What for?” James steps forward.
“So I can get the best view of the larynx. I want to be sure this is just a case of severe smoke-induced laryngitis and that there are no vocal cord nodules or polyps.”
The whole thing sounds worse than maybe it really is, but I feel faint and clutch the exam table.
“Hey, you’re going to be fine.” James puts a steady hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. I wish he’d do something to take my mind off why we’re here, but that usually leads to sexy stuff and I’m not in the mood to entertain that.
Dr. Lewis continues his examination, frowning from time to time. He finishes by gently pushing the tube up my nose and then does an acoustic analysis to test my pitch. I’m sure I look glamorous, and I can’t wait for this to be over.
“All right, so we have a few issues to discuss. I’d like to see you early next week.” He removes the tube and the rawness I feel returns. The jovial doctor I met a half hour earlier looks serious, and tears well up in my eyes. I’ve been holding them in for so long I’m cracking under the stress.
“What does that mean?” James stands next to me, presenting a united front, and I’m comforted enough to pull myself together with some deep, practiced breaths.
“You’ve never had a voice coach or seen a specialist before, correct?” Nodding vigorously, I wonder where this is going. “I thought so… otherwise this might have been detected sooner.”
“What might have been detected?” James is short and his voice rises, making me assume the worst possible scenario.
“Before you leave today, I want to schedule a biopsy and order a CT scan for as soon as possible.”
“W-what?” The word is raspy and backed up by the sound of choked tears. Biopsies and CT scans sound like scary stuff.
“Shh, Casey. Can it be done today in the office?” James tries to keep me in check, but now I’m on an emotional rollercoaster. I’m not ready for any of this, and my heart pounds in panic.
The doctor shakes his head. “You have what I believe is a vocal polyp. I want to do the scan and the biopsy to rule out cancer. We’ll need to remove it. Luckily it’s small, but it’s a full surgical procedure because I can’t get a clear view of it on a scope. I’ll need to consult with the anesthesiologist. It’s a routine procedure under a general anesthetic. But it’s still surgery.”
“Oh my God.” I can’t help uttering the words. Dr. Lewis pats my knee and lets me know to speak to the receptionist out front to schedule the CT scans and then the biopsy at his surgical center in another office. It’s worse than I thought.
“Hey, come on now; remember what I said? We’ll get through this.”
Sure, but the fact is this is surgery. I just escaped an apartment fire, found out I still have an active overzealous fan—stalker, whatever—and now I could have vocal polyps or worse. My stomach cramps unsettled and I can’t decide if I want to run away somewhere or cry.